


Donna Noble and the Twelfth Doctor

by alaynes



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 11:27:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/836385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alaynes/pseuds/alaynes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Twelfth Doctor is Donna Noble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Donna Noble and the Twelfth Doctor

Regeneration was always a tricky process that sometimes could be very painful. Alright, okay, always could very painful. It was a tricky painful process. And, honestly, while some other Timelords could control their regenerations, he'd never quite mastered the art of it ( _nothing_ to do with how he'd not stayed in university long enough to cover regenerations, it was just _difficult_ ); in fact, the last time he'd stretched it so long the collection of regeneration energy in his body had become almost intolerable before he'd released it and become, well, him.

This time, or any other time after this (not that there would be many; just one more) he wasn't going to make that mistake, he'd practically promised himself halfway through the regeneration, just about the time this new chin was growing out, probably, and there's Rule One for you.

The Doctor had people to see before he died. Clara, for one, was right there with him, so that wasn't very hard. There was a short trip to New York City in 1940 to see the Ponds from a distance, one to The Library to smile into a screen at his wife, and a visit to Madam Vastra, Jenny and Strax, and he even went to see Craig and Alfie (AKA Stormaggedon) and then he was ready to regenerate.

It was painful. All the energy forcing out of him, completely rewriting the cellular makeup of his body; he'd come out a completely different person, and while on one hand he liked this face, he _loved_ this face and everything he'd seen and done and every _one_ , and he didn't just want to have all of that put in a little box at the back of his mind where he didn't think about it too much; on the other, he'd seen and done too much and lost too much, and he'd really just like to move on. His tenth regeneration hadn't even lasted ten years, and this one had gone on for three hundred! (Too much, too long.)

And then, it was over, and thankfully the TARDIS wasn't a flaming proper mess. He could be so stupid sometimes, stretching out a regeneration like that. Never again; really, never. He groaned, looking down at himself, then grinned at Clara, who was gaping like an open-mouthed fish.

"How do I look?" But—wait, that voice. Distinctly not quite _male_. No, not really? He was a girl? She was a girl? Eleven bodies of male later he was definitely a girl? (S)He checked; no, no Adam's apple, and there was a lot of _chest_ ; she liked that, she decided, she liked that a lot. Brilliant! No, not brilliant, that wasn't very her, it was a previous form but not this one, but brilliant did seem to suit the occasion. She was a woman! (And, as to catchphrases, she'd think of one in a second.)

Also, these clothes were bloody uncomfortable, and too long for her, her previous body had been all long and lanky and this one was not.

"You're a woman!" Clara gaped again, and The Doctor beamed.

"Isn't it brilliant?"

Right, right, checks. Important. Two legs, two arms, lots of chest (noted that already), two eyes, different teeth (ugh), nose, two ears, eyes, and hair, lots and lots of hair, which was good, yes, good. She pulled some of it forward to look at it—and her heart right about leapt out of her chest.

_I'm ginger!_

The Doctor screamed, then decided that was a scream she liked, yes, very distinctive of something or someone or _she didn't know_ , but she liked it. Yes, she would scream a lot more often, yes.

Clara was sputtering, "But—how, that's just weird! You were a man, and now you're a woman! But—you have a wife! And that's—" The Doctor rolled her eyes, leaving a very confused Clara to run to the wardrobe and quickly change out of these long pants and uncomfortable shirt and waistcoat and purple coat, ugh, and the bowtie.

No, maybe she'd keep the bowtie. For occasions. Because bowties were cool.

(Or not?)

It was when she finally got to the wardrobe that things got really weird, though. She picked out a nice top and jeans, informal kind of wear, not all short (but admittedly cute) dresses like Clara wore, and changed into it, just about to check herself out in the mirror—and this was where The Doctor got her biggest surprise.

She wasn't just a ginger woman.

_I'm Donna Noble!_

She screamed. (Yes, definitely screaming a lot more.)

**Author's Note:**

> This is crack-fiction and not to be taken seriously, though it would be wonderful if. Really sort of a mash of the "Twelfth Doctor will be a woman" and "Twelfth Doctor will be Ginger" thoughts.


End file.
